


Unintended

by pinktini



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Complete, F/M, Hogwarts Era, One Shot, Post-Hogwarts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-18
Updated: 2012-06-18
Packaged: 2017-11-08 00:18:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/437021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinktini/pseuds/pinktini
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Within the mere minutes of seeing him again, memories of their time at Hogwarts came back to her in a dizzying blur.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unintended

**Author's Note:**

> This story is based off of thebeautyofsolitide's heartbreaking [gifset](http://thebeautyofsolitude.tumblr.com/post/15488453996/first-there-was-the-one-who-challenged-all-my) and song it was inspired from.
> 
> And a shout out to my most favorite Gryffindor beta, [jamessirius](http://jamessirius.tumblr.com/)! Thank you, thank you, thank you! :D

**_First Year_ **

Hermione Granger had just come down from the rush of being sorted into what was in her young opinion, _the_ _best_ house at the school. And as the last of her peers made their way to one of the four tables lining the Great Hall, she couldn’t help the wide smile that was permanently etched on her lips.

She felt various hands patting her on the back as she looked around the table, beaming at her new Gryffindor housemates. Hermione caught the eye of the infamous boy-who-lived, his round-spectacles reflecting the candles floating above their heads. He smiled at her and she grinned back.

It was everything she had dreamed of in the days leading up to her arrival at the school. It was truly a miracle, a fantasy for the storybooks.

But it was real wasn’t it? She had read over her acceptance letter so many times, the poor piece of parchment was threatening to rip at the creases. The letter had changed her whole view of the world and her station in it. She was meant for something greater. And every single person in this enormous hall was just like her, gifted with special abilities.

And it was in that moment, she looked across the hall, catching a glimpse of the blond boy Harry Potter had gotten into a disagreement with earlier.

The pale, grey-eyed boy was laughing at something his tall, oafish friend was saying. And as if he could sense her staring, he turned his head, his eyes widening as he met her gaze before narrowing with concern.

Hermione couldn’t place the emotion she felt as they stared back at each other, but it was unsettling. The moment ended quickly as he turned back to his friends. She surveyed the rest of his table and decided they all gave off a rather disconcerting energy.

********

**_Second Year_ **

Malfoy was glaring at her, his upper lip peeled back in anger.

She had just put the legitimacy of how he had made the Slytherin quidditch team into question, and in front of a rather large audience no less. The fury in his eyes spoke volumes as he stared her down.

He retaliated as she had expected and spat an insult she didn’t quite catch. Everyone around her gasped and did their best to avoid her gaze. Hermione bit her lip against the rising need to ask about what Malfoy had called her. Her friends’ reaction was answer enough and she wasn’t going to invite more humiliation.

Later that day, Ron would have to explain the insult to her. And with this encounter, she finally experienced firsthand the extent of racism in the Wizarding World.

********

**_Third Year_ **

It had been Hermione’s turn to stare Malfoy down a year later. As usual, he had been a prat, making a mockery of Buckbeak’s execution. And it had taken all of two seconds for her to decide to march up to him. There wasn’t an insult in the world that would have sufficed.

She was a Gryffindor after all.

Her hand swung out in a wide arc, slapping him across his face while the other hand drew out her wand. Eyeing his cheek, she could see the red imprint already appearing on his pale skin. Her arm didn’t waver as she trained it on that sharp, aristocratic nose of his.

She was still staring him down the end of her wand when he made his escape back into the castle, his two housemates trailing after him.

********

**_Fourth Year_ **

Hermione looked on in confusion, even as chaos ensued around her.

Had Malfoy really just warned her against the Death Eaters attacking the Quidditch World Cup?

She had barely held his gaze before he had turned and disappeared in a blur of black robes and blond hair, muttering an insult about her hair.

Hermione gaped at the spot on the ground where he stood. All around her, spells lit up the night sky. The cacophony of screams and explosions snapped her out of her reverie. Ron was still pulling her along with him as he ran.

Noticing he was going in the wrong direction, she tugged on his arm to make the next right, ducking various curses and hexes being thrown their way.

********

Hermione felt so out of her element, frequently tugging at the pale blue material of her gown.

Her nerves were a mess as the procession of champions and their dates made their way down the aisle and they were greeted by all of the Yule Ball attendees. Clutching Viktor Krum’s arm tightly, she pasted on a smile and focused on putting one foot in front of the other.

About halfway through the beautifully decorated hall, she caught a glimpse of Malfoy standing in the crowd, his own date standing at his side. His gaze followed her as she walked by, his expression held a kind of vague male interest, as if it hadn’t registered with him who exactly he was checking out.

Later on in the evening, she would spot him again just as she was on her way out. Malfoy would have been looking at her with an expression she couldn’t yet decipher, but not willing to investigate any further as she prepared herself for argument number two with Ronald Weasley.

********

At the end of Transfiguration on a particularly cloudy Thursday, Professor McGonagall had asked Hermione and Neville to stay behind and help straighten up the classroom. Malfoy had snickered when they nodded obediently in response. So naturally, the Professor had asked him to stay behind as well.

After the three of them finished up in relative silence, they made their way out of the classroom.

As Neville walked out into the hall, he turned and asked her about how Harry was doing with the latest challenge in the tournament. Before she could reply, Malfoy chimed in and made an unfavorable comment about Harry and cheating.

“Harry doesn’t need to resort to cheating.” She gave him a look that clearly read _unlike some people she knew_.

A flush of anger rose in his pale skin and he took a step toward her. Hermione turned fully around to face him, feeling Neville shrink slightly behind her. Malfoy’s eyes flared and Hermione could picture the gears in his head working up a verbal strike back at her.

He took another step toward her, his height looming over her meant to intimidate. This time Neville stepped closer to her, as if he was getting ready to pull her out of harm’s way.

“His entire participation is a disgrace to the tournament and the school,” Malfoy sneered. “I think we can leave that for Potter and his expertise.”

With that, Malfoy glanced over her head at Neville, his jaws clenching before marching past both of them, his robes flaring out in his haste. His two shadows, Crabbe and Goyle, started running to catch up with him, having waited for him outside the classroom.

********

Hermione followed the crowd out of the Great Hall. The atmosphere was eerily somber and silent.

Dumbledore had spoken of grief and tragedy. Cedric’s death reminded them how very real the threat of the war was. They all had known danger lurked outside the castle walls. But it was in that sort of distant way, like how one understood danger from reading a book, or like when Hermione had watched a Muggle horror movie.

The boys had decided to head back to the dormitory, but Ginny and Hermione chose to stay outside.  They had made it to the courtyard when a hard shoulder nearly knocked her to the ground. Thankfully, Ginny had been nearby, catching Hermione with an extended arm.

“Watch where you’re going, Mudblood.” It was Vincent Crabbe and he wasn’t alone.

Hermione wearily looked over at the group of males. Crabbe was dusting the spot on his cloak she had bumped into while Malfoy was glaring at her. Goyle and Warrington stood behind him, arms crossed and laughing at Crabbe.

The pain she had felt in the Great Hall came back with a force. There was a source for all that danger and death. And it came from these boys and their families.

With her hands fisting tightly at her sides, Hermione forced herself to stay rooted to ground. She wanted to scream at them, shake them until they came to their senses.

“Let’s go,” Crabbe muttered, shrugging his robe off as if he was preparing to clean it. Or burn it, whichever.

Hermione had never been more excited for the summer.

********

**_Fifth Year_ **

Hermione chased after Malfoy, running down the hall toward the dungeons. He had been so quick to leave the Prefect meeting, she had to practically run over everyone else in her attempt to catch him.

On the fourth time of calling out his name, he finally stopped and turned around. She held out the scroll for him, which of course, he didn’t move to accept.

“You have to keep a record of all the disciplinary actions you take.” She gave the scroll a shake in front of him, but he didn’t budge. “Do I have to bring this up with Professor McGonagall?”

Malfoy scoffed, still refusing the scroll. And he had a point. With Umbridge around, he could do anything he wanted, which included abusing his Prefect authority.

Frustrated with it how the year was going so far, Hermione grabbed the lapel of Malfoy’s cloak, shoving the scroll into one of the pockets.

Realizing what she had just done, she froze. Malfoy was equally stunned by the action. She didn’t know where she found the gall to do it and half-expected him to throw his cloak off as if she had set it on fire.

“Granger,” he murmured.

He pulled back slightly, tugging the cloak that was still grasped between her fingers. She inhaled sharply and let him go, taking a few steps back as he shifted his uneasy gaze down the hall. They avoided each other’s gazes before making their escape down opposite ends of the empty hall.

********

**_Sixth Year_ **

Hermione had realized she wasn’t alone as she made her way through the book stacks and had caught movement out of the corner of her eye. Not that she should have been alarmed, but normally no one visited the library this early in the school year—on a Saturday morning.

Well, except her. 

She halted in her tracks at the end of an aisle and spotted the person on the other end. It was Malfoy, his platinum blond locks were no longer slicked back as it had been since she last saw him before the summer.

Malfoy stopped and turned toward her. He stared at her, but upon recognition, his gaze became guarded.

Hermione realized he looked tired, almost ill, the sunken features of his face making him seem less menacing to her. Her cheeks flamed even as she forced herself to look defiant. She couldn’t imagine what he would be here for this early in the morning. She stiffened at the absurd idea that he was here for the same exact book.

They eyed each other suspiciously before abruptly shooting down the row in a mad race toward the other end of the library.

Malfoy’s shadow flitted across her peripheral as she tried to keep up with his long strides. He turned into the Charm’s section first. When she arrived mere seconds after him, he was already in the process of pulling a thick text from the shelf, casting a wary glance over his shoulder. She caught the title of his book, one of various Advanced Charms references Hogwarts held in its collection.

She marched up to the opposite shelf behind him. Eyeing a promising looking title on the bottom shelf, she bent down to her haunches to retrieve it. As she stood, her back briefly bumped into his, the contact sending a shock of energy coursing through her.

Before she could mutter an apology, he cut her off with a snap of his book shut before shoving it back onto the shelf.

Ignoring his surly manner, she inspected her own text, finding nothing substantial and ignoring the lack of distance between them. As she placed the book back, careful not to bump into Malfoy again, he very rudely cleared his throat behind her.

Assuming she was in his way, she weighed her options. Staying in place, she returned to perusing another book. She was about to flip to the next page when hands gripped her shoulders and shoved her off to the side. With a gasp, Hermione took the step back to her rightful spot, her hand reaching out to shove him back. The git barely moved.

She refused to move away. Maybe her close proximity would repel him away.

But he didn’t budge.

Outraged, she reached out again to give him another shove. In a blur, his hand caught her wrist and held it still. When she tried tugging her arm back, his gripped tightened, proving he was the stronger of the two.

With a curious tilt of his head, he frowned, “Problem?”

“With you? Where do I begin?” Hermione glared at him.

The irritating smugness on his face faded away and Hermione felt triumphant as he let her go. She slid away before he could get in another word and nearly broke into a run, feeling indescribably rattled.

********

Hermione was sitting in History of Magic trying her best to take notes from Professor Binns’ sleeping-inducing lecture. The rest of the class wasn’t so studiously, the majority of her peers having already dozed off before the lecture had even begun.

Binns had been droning on about the 17th century. The lecture took a turn when he started explaining how the Great Fire of London had been the result of a feud between two Wizarding families.

Hermione raised her hand, her interest piqued. But when Binns failed to see her hand, she interrupted him.

“Sir? Why didn’t anyone intervene before it escalated?”

“I can only deduce…that violence was the last resort.”

Hermione shook her head at the nonsense. “I highly doubt that—“

“I say their actions were justified,” drawled a bored male from the back of the room, cutting Hermione off.

She didn’t need to see who it belonged to, but turned around nonetheless. “Of course, you would Malfoy.”

He was sprawled in his seat. His friends sitting around him were all glassy eyed and sleepy. And he looked like he had been napping himself.

“Is it so hard to believe that they were forced to use a Firestorm to protect themselves?” Malfoy frowned.

“Yes!” She raised her voice and the classroom stirred around her. “A Firestorm? In the middle of a Muggle city?!”

Catching her herself, she lowered her voice. “Either families could have done a number of things to mediate the situation. Instead, they chose to use excessive force.”

“I disagree.” Malfoy replied back simply.

He was quickly becoming a source of frustration for her. She tried to keep her tone even as gritted her teeth.

“So the thousands of homes and buildings that were destroyed, the reported and unreported deaths…they were what? Collateral?”

Malfoy shrugged and leaned further back in his chair.

“Unbelievable!”

“And you wouldn’t have done the same?” He raised a brow, maintaining his infuriating cool demeanor.

“No Malfoy! I actually have the heart and mind to weigh the consequences of my actions, no matter how endangered I may be.”

By now, the rest of the class was watching them closely, heads swiveling back and forth from speaker to speaker. And Ron shared a wary glance with Harry.

With swiftness even she would never be able to replicate, Malfoy sat up, hands folding neatly on the surface of his desk. She could tell from the rigidity of his back that she had gotten to him.

When he spoke, it was low and even. “We aren’t talking about just you, Granger. Factor in your family being in danger. And even you would react, as you put it, _excessively_.”

“I would not.” She couldn’t keep the petulant sound out of her tone.

“You wouldn’t retaliate, even if it was your own child in danger?”

Hermione stared back at him, feeling as if she had been cornered. She had to take a moment to collect her thoughts, the silence would be seen as small victory for Malfoy and she hated that.

“That’s beside the point. We don’t know the whole story between the Gibbons and Farriners.”

He stared back at her, his gaze boring into hers. “It was late in the night and Gibbons were attempting to kidnap the Farriner’s children.”

“They were not.” Hermione was appalled by how easily Malfoy could spin a tale.

“I know for a _fact_ ,” he emphasized the word, knowing how often Binns liked to use the word.

“You can’t make things up thing and call them facts.” Hermione rolled her eyes at him.

“I know, because I’ve read about it.”

Hermione scoffed, “In what?”

His eyes lit up as he spoke, “My family’s library holds a number of ancient texts, including memoirs. I’ll have you know my ancestors were close friends with both families.”

Hermione stared back, with nothing to retort, her mind scrambling for something, anything with which to win the debate.

“And if it were your own family, you’d react similarly.” Malfoy returned to a lazily sprawl in his chair, but it was forced, his body not entirely relaxed. There was a fire in his eyes, from having bested her.

And Professor Binns, who had fallen asleep during their argument, jumped and continued on with his lecture as if nothing had happened.

Hermione turned around, her back rigid, her skin prickling with heat. She avoided the curious looks from her housemates as she focused on the rest of the lecture.

********

Harry’s paranoia had gotten to her. And when she spotted that mop of unmistakable light blond hair as she was doing her late night patrol rounds, she followed him.

She turned the corner and felt a rise of panic at finding the corridor empty. An arm reached out from the shadows and grabbed her, pulling her into a dim alcove.

Stifling a scream, her hands fumbled for her wand. When she finally managed to untangle her wand from her within her cloak, she found that Malfoy had drawn his own.

“Quit following me,” he growled.

The deep sound of his voice resonated through her and she was horrified by the reaction.

“It’s after-hours.” She simply stated back to him, feeling like she was at a loss of words.

“Do I look like I give a shit?” He started to walk out of the alcove.

She raised her wand and stepped in his way. And with the way he glared back at her, she immediately regretted the decision. “I’ll have to report you.”

He moved quickly then, rushing to her and pushing her deeper into the shadows. She readied for an attack, but none came. He stood over her, hands gripping her shoulders.

“You have no idea what…” Malfoy stopped himself. She could tell from his expression he was warring with the decision to finish his sentence.

Hermione was about to urge him on when he let go of her. His gaze flickered across her face and she couldn’t help but squirm under that penetrating stare.

“Run along, Granger.” His attempt at a lazily drawl comes out rough and gravely.

Something was wrong, that much she could sense. And if the lighting were better, she would bet the shadows under his eyes had become worse. Wherever it was he was heading for, she wanted to stop him from going there.

And as if he had heard her silent thoughts, he stepped back warily from her before attempting at a second escape. She moved to block him again. With a frustrated growl, he tried to dodge her.

In the next moment, she couldn’t tell who grabbed who…but the pressing of her body up against his in a crushing kiss was the last thing she had expected.

His hands. They were all over her, sending a thrill coursing through her. It was then she realized her own were fisted into his dark sweater, into the soft feel of the knitted fabric. And in that absurd moment, she thought of _Draco Malfoy’s_ sweater and she wanted nothing more than to pull it off of him.

As abruptly as it started, he broke the seal of their kiss, his hands moving her to an arm’s length away. The dim light from the torch out in the corridor played shadows on his face. She gaped back him, momentarily thrown by the kiss.

His gaze landed on her lips and she thought he’s going to kiss her again. They both took a dizzying step back from each other, their backs hitting the sides of the small alcove.

“That shouldn’t have happened,” she whispered.

“No,” he murmured.

They stared back at each other, neither looked happy about that revelation. With nothing else to be said or done, she dashed out of the alcove, cheeks red with embarrassment. Running back toward Gryffindor Tower, Hermione felt like she was both floating and sinking at the same time.

********

She had been first to finish the Transfiguration exam, handing it in with a flourish at the front of the classroom. After packing up her things, she had been walking toward the exit, wondering about how she’d spend the extra time.

Only the scratches of pen on parchment disturbed the near silence of the room as she made her way out. The sound of a chair legs scraping against the stone floor immediately followed, a second person that had finished the exam early.

“Just a moment, Miss Granger,” Professor McGonagall announced from her seat at the front of the classroom. “I need you to run an errand for me please.”

Hermione turned around in time to see the professor handing a piece of parchment over to the second student who had finished the exam.

“Take Mr. Malfoy with you. You’ll need the extra pair of hands in returning these boxes of potion vials back to Professor Snape.”

Her friends all looked up from their exams, giving her a sympathetic glance before eyeing Malfoy suspiciously. The rest of the class was eyeing her as well, having witnessed her argument with Malfoy in Binns’ class from the week before. Her fists clenched at her sides and she fought the blush rising in her cheeks.

She avoided everyone’s gaze, fleeing the classroom after grabbing one of the boxes. She continued to walk ahead of Malfoy, ignoring his presence.

“You couldn’t look more suspicious if you tried.” He amused voice rang out behind.

“Not everyone excels in lying, cheating, stealing or whatever immoral things your house take so much pride in.” Hermione sniffed, her step hitching before she quickened her pace.

He caught up to her easily as they neared Snape’s classroom. And when she glanced over at him, the grin on his face did a number on her.

The lightness in his eyes made him look younger. Recently, whatever that had been plaguing him, something he would never be willing to tell her, had aged him.

When he spoke up again, she looked up to find his grin had melted away. “I believe you excel in one particular immoral act I find quite appealing.”

Hermione’s eyes bugged out, the glass tinkling in her box of vials as she readjusted her hold on it. She wasn’t prepared for this playfulness.

And just when she had thought of something to retort, the door to Snape’s classroom opened. The expression on the professor’s face was dark, as if he had been waiting on them for hours. Whoever Snape had been expecting, it certainly wasn’t the two of them together. He recovered quickly enough and instructed them to leave them in his private supply room, disappearing in a flutter of black robes as he returned into his classroom.

They walked together in silence to Snape’s supply room down the hall. She barely had her box laid gently on the ground when she heard the door of the small room close behind her, the shaft of light disappearing and leaving them in darkness.

Hermione pulled out her wand, waving it around her. She felt it push against the cushion of his body. And from his grunt and firmness she pushed against, the wand must have hit a bone.

She startled when she felt his hand at her hips, drawing her to him.

“Wait,” she breathed.

It had been just in time too, as she felt his breath on her neck, sending a prickling heat down her spine. His hands tightened their grip on his hips, pulling flush against him, his lips found the spot behind her ear and she moaned.

They were down to opened shirts, ties strewn on the ground. She made the mistake of glancing up at him, finding his lips red and puffy, his eyes staring at her with this possessive heat, as if he had special plans for her yet.

Suppressing a moan, she wrapped her arms around his neck. His hands travelled back and squeezed her bottom before lifting her up. And when he pressed himself against her with a groan, she found herself pressing back against his hardness.

The rational part of her mind reminded her that they were in the Snape’s personal supply room in a very comprising situation. It worked better than a bucket of cold water would. She reluctantly pulled her head back and pushed against his shoulder.

Leaning his forehead against hers, they’re breaths mingled together in the quiet of the closet. The action caused a tightening in her chest.

The oddly tender moment ended way too quickly. He released his hold on her thighs and she hopped down. The door to the supply opened as she heard him speak.

“You go first.”

His voice was rough and nearly made her change her mind. She was about to tell him they didn’t need to leave separately since McGonagall sent them out together anyways.

“Leave now, Granger. Or I’ll make the decision for you.”

Hermione stiffened. His words really shouldn’t have excited her. But then the thought that Malfoy needed to take something from Snape’s private stash reared its ugly head.

“Why do you need to stay behind?” She asked, feeling guilty the moment the words left her lips.

The silence that followed made her wish she could take those words back. And when she thought he wasn’t going to answer her, he finally spoke up.

“I’m hard as fuck, that’s why”

Feeling the heat of her blush in her cheeks, she stepped back as if it would help his situation. “Oh.”

“Granger,” he bit out.

“Right,” she answered and shuffled out of the room quickly, hoping to catch a glimpse of him in his…state.

********

Hermione didn’t know what she was doing anymore. Or if she even likes what she had begun with him. It wasn’t like her, hiding secrets from her best friends, lying to them. All she knows is, whatever it was they had started, it was fragile. They were together in suspended moments of time, hidden away from reality and their responsibilities.

She had been afraid of the day when it will all fall apart around them. But she doesn’t expect anything else anymore. And she can see it in his eyes as well, the way he looks away whenever they get too close.

It was a natural reaction—they were both trying to protect their hearts.

Maybe they were postponing the inevitable. She thought about the future, their futures and the rough road ahead of them.

They were both survivors.

They’d both get their happy endings.

They just wouldn’t have it together.

********

**_Seventh Year_ **

Dread had coursed through Hermione’s veins when Harry had accidently alerted the Ministry to their location, speaking Voldemort’s name and triggering whatever trace the Snatchers had in place. The Snatchers had kept them prisoner for an eternity. And when they could not lie about their identities any longer, they had been brought to Malfoy Manor.

Hermione looked around her, finding the haggard faces of her two best friends, one of which was grossly disfigured by her own doing. They had been on the run for…Merlin, how many weeks had it been? They had only managed to destroy one horcrux and now Hermione couldn’t get Harry to stop obsessing over the Deathly Hallows.

Hermione couldn’t stop the raging thumps in her chest as they entered the drawing room. Draco and his family were waiting in the room for them. Everything in her mind and body blanked, numbness spreading through her limbs as she sees him again for the first time in months. He looked as tired as she felt—even though his hair was neatly combed, his clothes clean and crisp.

She hated that even after all this time; she still wanted to go to him.

********

Bellatrix sauntered around Hermione, heels clicking on the hard wood floorboards of the drawing room, twirling her wand in the air as if she were a conductor to a phantom orchestra.

A drop of sweat rolled down Hermione’s neck as she braced herself on her hands and knees, her breath hard and heavy.

In her peripheral, she could see Bellatrix flourish her wand, pointing back at her. Without another word, a shooting pain ripped through her, starting at the base of her neck, the agony tearing down to her toes. She choked on her own saliva as she writhed on the ground, sagging when she can move no longer.

Panting, her eyes half-lidded, searching for the one person in the room that mattered. He was turned away from her, sitting at a writing desk, his head down. She wants him to turn around; she wants to see his eyes. But he doesn’t move at all, save for the breaths that expand his chest.

Tears rolled over the bridge of her nose, staining the hard wood floor beneath her.

 _Help me. Please._ She wanted to reach out to him, but her arms felt like they were weighted down by a ton of bricks. __

But he doesn’t meet her eyes. Hadn’t tried to since she had stumbled into the drawing room with Harry and Ron. She can hear the latter screaming for her and it brings more tears to her eyes.

She closed her eyes against the tiredness that consumed her. There is one lingering thought as she prepared for another one of Bellatrix’s spells.

They had asked Draco to help them turn the trio in to Voldemort.

He hadn’t given them away.

********

**_19 years later…_ **

Hermione could still hear the trains whistling as she stepped off the platform and continued on her way to the designated Apparition zone. Ron had insisted on taking their brooms for a ride. Fortunately for her, she had to head back to the Ministry, leaving Ron to take Hugo home in their flying death traps.

She couldn’t help the bittersweet sadness of having seen Rose off to school. She also couldn’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy. Even though she had just graduated from a prestigious Magical Law program in Wizarding London.

Schoolwork and studying agreed with Hermione Granger, there was no doubt about that.

She turned the corner to find a crowd forming around the Apparition zone. Letting out a forlorn sigh at the sight of a long, disorganized line, she wondered if riding with Ron would actually have been faster.

Hermione went to stand in the line, which really was just a haphazard group of people with no real sense of direction. Trying her best to not look too rudely impatient, she weaved her away through the crowd. And when a prickling sensation at her neck warned her to not turn around, she did anyways. 

She had snaked her way to a spot right next to Draco and Astoria Malfoy.  Before Hermione could make her escape, Astoria called out to her.

“Miss Granger.” Astoria’s soft dulcet tones turned up in surprise. “Or should I say, Mrs. Weasley.”

Hermione gave the petite blonde a thin smile, “Hermione, will do.”

Ron’s mum would always be _the_ Mrs. Weasley _,_ as the family had agreed upon. Especially with all the sons the elder matriarch had, there would be too many _Mrs. Weasleys_ to not get mixed up.

“Draco, don’t be rude.” Astoria lightly patted him on the arm.

Hermione had to use all of her will power to look up at Draco and keep her face composed. He nodded at her and she nodded back. His intense grey gaze was a welcome sight she reluctantly thought.

It had been years since they’d actually spoken. To her knowledge Draco still held the same Ministry Official position as his father, but doing a much better job at it than Lucius ever could.

Luckily, the Ministry was a vastly enormous organization. And her position at the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures was far enough down the chain of command where she didn’t have any work with him.

Astoria eyed the two of them curiously. “My father tells me he recommended you and Anthony Goldstein for the open Senior Personnel positions at the Ministry.”

Hermione nodded, “I’m considering the offer. It’s an honor, I can’t thank your father enough.”

“I think Anthony had done enough thanking for the both of you.” Astoria grinned.

“I’m sure he has.” Hermione laughed, having experienced Anthony’s brown-nosing firsthand.

“This is me,” Astoria announced as the crowd cleared in front of her. “I’ll see you back at the manor, Draco. Pleasure seeing you Hermione.”

Hermione watched as Astoria leaned up and gave Draco a peck on the cheek. Astoria stepped past the invisible barrier that restricted the use of Apparition and in the next second she disappeared with a pop.

The two of them stood facing each other as other witches and wizards scurried around them to the Apparition point. A few impatient travellers threw them dirty looks as they moved past and Hermione welcomed them if it meant avoiding Draco’s stare.

“You’re Apparating to the Ministry I take it?” She asked to cut the thick silence between them.

He gave her silent nod as a man pushed past her, knocking her off balance.

“Watch it,” Draco barked, giving the man the evil eye.

The man looked like he was about to snap back, but his eyes widened as he glanced back and forth from Hermione and Draco. Muttering an apology, the man ducked out of the way as if a Dementor had just appeared. They must have been quite the grim-faced duo. The Malfoy son who had been an accomplice to Albus Dumbledore’s murder and the woman who had been Harry Potter’s right-hand woman in the war.

Within the mere minutes of seeing him again, memories of their time at Hogwarts came back to her in a dizzying blur. 

Their secret had ended as quickly as it had begun. She never told anyone, not Harry or Ginny, and especially not Ron. And she knew Draco had never spoken a word of it either. Astoria wouldn’t have been so quick to be friendly had she known.

And it was this knowledge that turned Hermione’s stomach. They had chosen their paths in life and it hadn’t involved each other. From the way he was staring at her now, she thought maybe he was feeling the same sense of melancholy.

But they were happy now, weren’t they? Even in the absence of the storm that had brewed between them.

Hermione looked up and brushed an errant strand of hair away. “It’s good to see you Draco. I had heard about the headway you made with the financial regulation negotiations with the Americans. Congratulations.”

The surprise in his expression was quickly replaced with a professional demeanor Hermione had imagined as she heard about his work with the Ministry.

“Likewise with you and your work with the house-elves,” he said with a smirk, like he had been expecting her to have done so years and years ago. Apparently he had been paying attention to her career as she did his.

The crowd in front of them cleared once again and Draco held out his arm for her to go.

“I’ll see you later,” Hermione said with a sad smile, fully knowing they wouldn’t be seeing each other, not intentionally.

She turned back around and found him staring back. “Goodbye Draco.”

There was a flicker in his expression, his brow drawn tight as he frowned.

It was a long-time coming Hermione realized. She hadn’t said goodbye until now.

 


End file.
